Unyielding
by jae-vous
Summary: He just supposes it follows the pattern of their partnership.
1. Ache

**_I need a place for these drabbles, so for now they will go here. _**

**_jae_**

* * *

_I thought of texting you "good morning, I can't sleep"_

_and then I remembered_

_that you are on a journey_

_which I am not a part of_

_and that's okay_

_but_

_good morning_

_I can't sleep_

* * *

His fingers travel the familiar pattern across the touch screen's glowing keypad. it's a number he has memorized, as if he's known it for a thousand years, repeated it in a thousand different lifetimes.

It's a habit he's grown accustomed to, in the early hours under the moonlight. During the day the ache for her isn't nearly as overwhelming, as all consuming as it is once he lies down at last to sleep. She slowly fills his head, his heart; her name in every breath he exhales in the quiet of his bedroom. There's something about hearing her voice fill his ear for the mere seconds that follow the end of the call's ring; although the voice he knows so well is distorted by static and technology, it helps him breathe easier to hear her fill his head. He often wonders after every call just what happened to that light and happy voice that still lingers after the dial tone, and how everything could have fallen apart so rapidly.

He just supposes it follows the pattern of their partnership.

He nearly has a heart-attack when the ringing cuts short of its usual length, and the sound of his name breaks hesitantly in his ear.

"Tony."

His stomach clenches as his heart begins hammering loudly, and for a brief hysterical moment, he wonders if she can hear how loud it beats in response to her abrupt greeting. He lays frozen as her breathing fills his ear, staring at the dark wall of his bedroom.

"Tony," She murmurs again, an unspoken command for an answer resonates off his name.

"Did I wake you?" It's the first thing that comes to mind, a concern that precedes all other thoughts raging in his head. He immediately rolls his eyes at the first words he delivers to her since their goodbye, but he hears faint laughter come from her end of the line.

"You usually do," she replies softly. "You call me often around this time, no?" Her voice is kind, sad and rough. Quickly he calculates the time, and realizes it's around morning there.

"I'm sorry," He murmurs sincerely, turning his body to gaze over at the clock on his nightstand. "I didn't think -"

"No, it is okay." She sighs. The silence that stretches between them could fill the miles that keeps them apart.

"So, tell me."

Tony starts at her soft voice, the sound so familiar and affectionate and adoring, and the force of her absence suddenly hits him, hard and fast, all over again.

"Hmm?" He squeezes his eyes shut as they begin to burn, and turns his face into the pillow beneath him.

"Why all the phone calls when you should be asleep?"

Silent tears slip beneath his eyelids, and he breathes deeply to keep them hidden over the line.

"I can't sleep. And it helps to hear your voice."

Silence follows his confession, and then her voice, thick and tearful, comes back to him over the line.

"Good morning, Tony."

He holds the phone tighter to his ear, his heart slowing to a steady beat.

"Good morning. I can't sleep."


	2. Map

_I am attracted to the idea_

_of your lips_

_exploring my body_

_as if it were a map_

_and you kept getting lost_

_on purpose._

* * *

Her heavy breathing mingles with the rustle of sheets. Though his warmth disappears from above her, his touch isn't idle; She squirms as the slow trail of his fingers return to grazing her thigh, and she holds back the laughter that threatens to errupt at the tickle his soft touch ignites.

_"Tony,"_ She cries, unable to curb her reaction, and his low chuckle echoes her own as he moves back up her body, kisses following his path up her stomach. She helps him unfold the sheets around his head, and his pleased expression greets her at last in a tangle of cotton.

She molds her body to him, sliding a bare leg between his own, and he's still grinning as he settles his head beside her own on the pillow.

"Proud of yourself?" Ziva smoothes her thumb against the stubble of his jaw, and his grins stretches against her palm. He leans forward to capture her lips deeply, humming in approval as her mouth parts, yielding to his.

"I've always liked that tattoo." He murmurs while pulling back, a mischievous glint in his eye, and the hand he'd tangled in her curls glides back down her body, disappearing once more under the sheets surrounding them.


	3. Consume

_He could feel it_

_inside,_

_slowly crawling_

_under his_

_skin._

* * *

Nothing he's ever seen compares to the look on her face when the screaming, bundled infant is placed in her arms. Her breathless laughter mingles with a choked sob as shaking hands pull back the pink fleece to reveal the face they had spent countless days and endless nights imagining.

Her screams slowly ease to a soft hiccuping as Ziva brings the baby to meet her lips, brushing kisses across her cheeks, her nose, her lips; everywhere she sees the familiar parts of her and him.

There's a wonder he's never seen, a love that he only _thought_ he knew, when Ziva looks up at him and her eyes meet his. Her tearful smile, so brilliant and adoring - steals his very breath away, and he swears under his breath; he's never felt so _high_.

He reaches over them to crash his mouth against hers, and her smile widens under his lips. He doesn't know how long it lasts; only that when she pulls away, she brushes her mouth against his with several, quick kisses, before pressing her forehead against his. They drop their gaze to the infant between them, and he brings one hand up to tunnel into her damp curls, keeping their heads touching, and another to at last reach out and touch their living and breathing daughter for the very first time. He draws a delicate finger across the back of her hand, so fragile and warm, and her fingers reflexively grab at the tip of his finger. Her fist tightens around him in a vice grip that's all parts ninja strength, and nothing to do with his genes, and he blinks back the tears that have been burning the back of eyes for the better part of an hour.

He could feel it inside, crawling under his skin;

A love he never imagined he would know

slowly and irrevocably consume him.


End file.
